Send Me An Angel
by TechnoRanma
Summary: One fateful day Alfred F. Jones meets an angel... who ends up making his life hell. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself. USUK AU setting 3/?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money from this!

A/N: A fic I've been working on and off for a while, but kanami_yuuta (on LJ) requested something to do with Britannia Angel on the LJ A-Z fandom meme in my journal, so here it comes I'm finishing it! AU setting

* * *

**Send Me an Angel**

* * *

A steady putter filled the air as the small aircraft soared high up into the atmosphere.

The sky was dotted with fluffy white clouds that looked as soft as dollops of whipped cream against the bright blue backdrop of the morning.

Alfred F. Jones grinned to himself as he flicked a few switches and checked his gauges, before he tilted his flight path to get a look at the ground far below.

If it had been something like 50 years ago, he would've adjusted his goggles to stop his blond hair from fluttering wildly around his face in the wind, but as it was, the broad-shouldered American had to settle for the amazing view from his rented 2-seater Cessna.

It was really the _perfect_ day to go flying.

He didn't get the chance to go that often, but when he did, he loved it more than anything. It didn't hurt that he was a certifiably awesome hobby pilot, too.

...Which was why Alfred was shocked enough to scream (in an embarrassing way he would later never admit to) when a loud THUNK shook the plane's fuselage, the metallic clanging making the blond man lose his grip on the steering.

"HOLY MOLY! What was that!?" Alfred yelled and looked around madly, yanking off his radio set so he could crane his neck.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted something large and feathered tumbling out of the sky haphazardly.

"Oh shit!" Alfred bit his lip in panic. He'd just hit something! "Damn. Damnit!" The blue-eyed student swore to himself, trying to twist in his seat and catch another glimpse of the bird. Oh god, what if he had killed it?

The constant buzz of the propellers as the plane kept on course made Alfred start to shift in his seat uncomfortably. What if the bird had been a mother? Even worse, what if it had been endangered...?

What if he had just _slain_ one of the few PROUD _American bald eagles_ left?

The distraught pilot jerked the steering to turn around and immediately pulled back the throttle to start descending.

_'Ahh__ come on! Don't be dead- stupid, glorious bird!'_

* * *

The small airplane touched down and skidded to a quiet halt, landing on a strip of deserted dirt road.

The engine died and Alfred jumped out, his boots making gritty sounds in the fine, sandy, terrain as he walked along the stretch of empty land.

"It had to have fallen somewhere around here..." Alfred muttered under his breath, his baby blue eyes scanning around.

The sun beat down more fiercely on the ground than it did up in the air, making the American squint as he searched. It was just as the bespectacled youth was beginning to think he'd made a mistake, when he saw it.

A couple meters away it was there, sprawled on it's side on the turf. The figure had wings for sure, but that was where the resemblance to a fine-feathered animal ended completely. Human legs and arms accompanied the body, and smooth skin was covered by a white garment that was a bit scuffed from the fall. A few long white feathers from those supernatural wings were likewise bent funnily, making the pilot give a short nervous laugh in guilt.

Could it... could it really be?

Alfred was in awe.

It was an angel.

Alfred immediately reached up and ran a hand hastily through his hair, trying vainly to neaten it and flatten that one stubborn fly-away strand. The tall blond blinked hugely behind his square-framed glasses and drew in a deep breath. He took a hesitant step forward.

"Shit!" The angel suddenly jerked up and swore loudly.

Alfred froze in his spot, eyes wide in a comical way.

He watched in stunned silence as the angel groaned loudly, pressing a hand to it's forehead and squinting blearily against the bright sunshine.

It got to it's sandal covered feet and instantly began staggering around, swearing creatively as it did so. Alfred's eyebrows shot up in surprise when he noticed the heavenly being was clutching what looked to be a... liquor bottle?

The sandy-blond haired angel raised said bottle to hang over his head, trying (and _failing_ miserably) to take a drink a few times before finally discovering it was empty. He chucked the troublesome thing into some dry brush and nearly fell over.

Alfred's usually ever-present smile became strained, and dots of sweat beaded on his face as the young man watched the impressively drunken display.

A drunk angel.

Deprived of alcohol, the angel dragged a hand over his haggard face and looked around with more awareness. "Bloody hell. Where am I?"

The fine sheen of incredulous sweat now began rolling down Alfred's temple as he stared. A drunk, _British_ angel.

"What the hell is this...!?" Alfred finally exclaimed, feeling a lot like the village idiot as he threw his hands up in the air.

The winged man in question whirled around at the outburst and the two strangers stared at each other in unworldly displeasure.

Seeing him face to face, Alfred nearly laughed out loud at how much crazier this situation could get. The angel (was he really?) was even more ridiculous looking than he had first accessed!

Green eyes glared out from under huge, thick eyebrows, framed by a messy fringe of windblown hair. The American didn't get the chance to make a comment though, because not a moment later a finger was pointed at his face accusingly.

"You HIT me!" The angel slurred in accented anger, waving his arm in drunken exaggeration. "What in the _world_ is your problem, y-you you... you WANKER!" The Brit poked the air establishing his point.

Alfred's mouth fell open in shear disbelief. The boozed finger pointing was starting to strike a nerve, and the disbelief was now truly transforming into self-righteous offense.

_"You_ hit ME." The obviously British freak repeated, volume raised high, emphasizing a different part of that statement which was quickly becoming Alfred's least favourite phrase.

"Me? ME? Hey waaait a minute pal, _you_ flew into _me_!" Alfred shouted back, thrusting a hand in the direction of his dinged up plane (which was a rental, too). Hell! He couldn't _believe_ he had been worried and even in awe of this guy...

The angel scowled deeply and even though he was the shorter one, he somehow managed to stare at the taller blond in a way that made it feel like he was looking down his nose at Alfred. Something in the move naturally sent the American's hackles rising in irritation.

"I'll have you -_hic-_ know," The pissed (in more ways that one) Brit drawled out, rolling his shoulders and flicking the wings on his back. "I am The Britannia Angel! And I have magical f-flowers... POWERS, the likes of you have never even dreamed of!" The inebriated Britannia Angel finished, raising his chin and crossing his arms in a self-important manner which probably would've fooled a gullible wuss, if there were one around, that is.

As it was, Alfred's eyes went wide and this time he really did laugh an honestly amused chuckle. He rubbed at one blue eye underneath his glasses and then scratched his chin in amazement. "You don't say? Haha! No. Really. Who set you up to this?" The taller blond looked around amiably at the deserted area and put a hand on his hip.

"Where's the camera crew? Did I just get _Punk'd_?? I'll admit you had me going there for a second... But c'mon, you should just tell me already!" The pilot grinned and raised a normal-sized eyebrow at the weirdo.

"You think you're hot stuff, don't you?" Britannia Angel spluttered in his toga, as if he weren't used to street-smart Americans not believing his crap. "You hit me with your bloody flying machine!"

A frown appeared on the pilot's face. Again with the hitting thing. Alfred stared back at the craft which sported a small dent that hadn't been there before take-off. Admittedly, the damage looked authentic, and he had felt the mid-air collision... but there couldn't be any way... it couldn't be...

The Britannia Angel took out a wand (a _wand!_) and the human watched in shock as he stumbled over and shot a blast of sparks, not only fixing the dent in the plane, but also morphing the machine from a tidy white colour to a shocking bright purple.

"It's... it's real?" Alfred whispered in horror.

The surge of magical energy must've been a little too much under the influence however, because the next thing Alfred knew; the angel had hurled up all over his Cessna's landing gear and passed out in a drunken heap.

"Ah christ!" The American ran over and quickly knelt, lifting the Britannia Angel up against one of his arms in the shade of his airplane. Alfred watched as the smaller man's chest moved up and down gently. His feathered wings were soft on his skin.

It really was real.

Gingerly, Alfred scooped the angel up into his arms, a little surprised at how light he was. Light as air, really.

The American looked around his landing site in the hopes that he really wasn't alone, but the blond's shoulders soon sagged when he realised that it just wasn't the case. Alfred's blue eyes rolled skyward in exasperation and he heaved out an aggravated sigh as he climbed back into his plane's cockpit, setting his unexpected passenger into the seat next to him.

"Who in the world thought it would be funny to send me _this_ load of trouble..." He mumbled, shaking his head even as he fired up the engine once again.

As the aircraft lifted off the Earth and back up into the atmosphere, Alfred pursed his lips and wondered how the hell he was going to explain the obnoxious paint job.

Oh well, no one had believed him about the alien and UFO sightings.

No one was EVER going to believe this.

* * *

End Part 1

Liked it? Review please!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money from this!

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews!!! Sorry for the wait, came down with sickness and had many exhausting nights at work. Here is the second part!

* * *

**Send Me an Angel**

* * *

Alfred strode around in his small apartment and plunked a kitchen chair down in front of his... currently occupied couch. He sat down contemplating his stranger than strange morning.

The American vaguely glanced over the unconscious figure resting on the piece of furniture's plush cushions and immediately squinted his eyes behind his glasses, making a face that looked a lot like he had just sucked on a lemon. In reality he hadn't eaten a lemon (he'd actually just finished up a hamburger he'd gotten from a drive-thru on the way home), but the expression remained the same as the blue-eyed man wondered what the heck he had managed to get himself into.

He could practically _see_ the tabloid headlines already. '_Angel sightings spur Angel impersonators!'_ or '_University student discovers universal nutcase!'_

Jeezus, what a joke.

But, then again...

The blond cocked his head to the side and absently fingered the small cross which hung on a fine chain around his neck. Truth be told, he was more of a casual type of believer, but right now he had no idea _what_ to believe.

The people at the small airport had been completely bewildered when he had landed and lined up the magically purple-coloured plane with the other basic white ones on the runway. Nobody had been able to utter more than gob smacked noises as the tall blond faked a nonchalant whistle while he signed out – carrying a completely comatose costumed weirdo over his shoulder to boot.

A bit of movement caught his eye and Alfred looked around to see that his unexpected guest was finally coming to.

"Oh god..." The hung-over Brit croaked out upon opening his crusted eyes. No doubt his head was throbbing. A green gaze caught sight of the American and it widened in what the bespectacled man could only assume was utter misery.

"Oh good heavens. I thought it was a nightmare." Britannia Angel moaned in misfortune.

"Yeah? Well I hope you know my weekend is completely ruined because of you, too." Alfred folded his arms and groused back.

The winged blond didn't appear to care much about Alfred's weekend though; instead he was looking at his surroundings with a growing sense of alarm.

"What is this sty you've brought me to?"

Alfred's eyes crinkled and his chin jutted out unhappily at that observation.

He'd had a roommate a couple years back – a nice guy by the name of Toris. He had been a naturally tidy person and had really helped Alfred keep up with doing the regular chores when the rush of classes and work had piled up.

Toris had moved out though and was now living in one of the campus houses with a few other guys (one of them was Russian and _really_ intense for no apparent reason), so Alfred once again had the apartment to himself.

And yeah, okay, it was kind of messy.

He wouldn't call it a _sty_ though.

"...Funny you should say that. This is how REAL men live." Alfred made a show of settling back into his chair sloppily, stretching and letting out a huge gaudy yawn. "Not that you would _know_ anything about that, being an 'angel' and all." The taller blond arched an eyebrow pointedly at the hung-over heavenly being.

The Britannia Angel promptly gave the American cut-eye. "A real man you say? _You_ wouldn't _know_ a gentleman if he got you right in the kisser!" Britannia Angel proclaimed loudly, profoundly irritated.

Alfred raised both his eyebrows, surprised the Brit had the energy to let a haughty manner colour his tone. Wait, who was he kidding? This guy probably refueled daily by playing havoc with peoples sensibilities.

The glasses-wearing youth wanted to sigh. He really hadn't known where else to bring the crazy drunk man, and Alfred's sense of heroism wouldn't allow him to just dump the poor bastard somewhere... even though he looked like he was turning out to be more trouble than he was worth. The pilot gulped slightly to himself, thinking maybe he was just a bit more gullible than he'd first thought.

"Now then. If you don't mind," The angel hinted wearily and blinked a few times to get his bearings. The Brit began to move off of the couch, presumably to leave, but something stopped him short from doing so. Outrage rose in the tousle-haired man's expression when he realised his arms and ankles were bound. With rope.

...He was _tied up_?

"You–!" Britannia Angel bristled instantly in a panic. "Why am I restrained!?"

Alfred pulled his leg up to rest his ankle on his knee; his blue eyes alight with amusement and an amiable smile now on his lips. "Well, see, I had to hogtie you. I looked you over while you were out," The American said matter-of-factly.

The winged man's cheeks seemed to redden slightly at that.

"I don't know how you got the wings on, but if you were a TRUE angel, wouldn't you have..." Alfred paused for dramatic effect. "A halo?"

The angel in question lifted a thick eyebrow in confusion and his green eyes craned upwards to try and see atop his head. It was a futile effort, but he quickly caught a glimpse of his reflection in the powered off television set and his eyes went wide.

"I-It's gone! That sodding crash-!! My halo!" Britannia Angel cried in disbelief.

Alfred wrinkled his nose and scratched the side of it as the green-eyed blond started a whole new tirade. All right, so he supposedly did have a halo. Had one. At any rate, he didn't have to act like Alfred had stolen the proverbial rims off his pimped up ride. A guy that mad could terrorize the whole world if the American didn't get to the bottom of this.

"_Anyway_- how am I supposed to know if you're a villain or not? You've got to admit, so far you haven't done anything 'angelic'." The American snorted at the term and shrugged his shoulders in an act that was by no means innocent.

The angel's face definitely turned red at that. "I am not a bloody villain!"

"All I'm saying is-"

"Shut it!" The Brit interrupted and began struggling anew against his bonds. "I'll show you villain."

Alfred watched bemusedly at first, but became a bit concerned at the way the rope was rubbing the angel's pale skin red in places. "Hey settle down there, you'll–"

The hobby pilot reached out to stop him, but Britannia Angel bared his teeth and let out a growling noise that made Alfred snatch his hand away in a bewildered hurry. It was just his luck – did angels _bite_, too? Lord!

The struggling was for naught though, and almost immediately Britannia Angel fell back against the couch, eyes closed, limp like a sweaty noodle and visibly tired.

Alfred leaned forward, his bangs falling away from his face as he peered down at his captive, who for all intents and purposes didn't seem much like he could be a villain anymore. Actually... right now, the American supposed he wasn't so bad.

And, either the man before him really was an angel... or the Brit just honestly believed it to be true.

One green eye opened without warning and looked up at him. A small tinge of red coloured Alfred's cheeks in inexplicable embarrassment and he sat back in his chair.

Shit.

He really was gullible. He believed it.

The angel let out an exasperated breath. "I don't suppose you have any tea around here then, do you."

It was more of a prickly statement than a hopeful question, but it made the side of Alfred's mouth stretch into a droll line. He opened his mouth to happily say 'no' when suddenly he heard a shuffling noise come from somewhere behind him. The blue-eyed student whirled around to see a shadowy figure in his hallway.

The face that appeared next was a familiar one (well to him anyway).

"Matthew! Hey don't just sneak up on me like that, moron! What are you doing in here!"

His cousin walked further into the small living room, looking affronted. "Geeze, sorry Alfred. I'm only taking back my stuff – which you _borrowed_ and _never gave back_, by the way – so I can catch up on some cleaning this weekend." The other glasses-wearing male shifted his arms, jostling the various bottles of cleaning products and a precariously balanced mop he held within his grip to prove his point. "Don't you remember saying I could come in earlier?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sure, borrow anything you need." Alfred replied distractedly, surreptitiously eyeing Britannia Angel who still lay churlishly on his couch.

Matthew rolled his eyes on his way out and Alfred could've sworn he muttered something that sounded a lot like '_I have to borrow MY OWN stuff?'_

"Well I'll be going back to my place now. Bye– oh. And nice to meet you." The Canadian called out, nodding towards the thick-eyebrowed man who had been silently stewing.

Alfred shot up from his chair a look of shear shock on his face. "You can SEE him!?" He glanced back and forth between the two other blonds, the hue of his face pasty like he had eaten a rank burger. Statistically, it was quite possible he had.

Matthew gave Alfred a weird look. "Uhh... yeah?" He replied uncertainly. "Anyway, I'll see you later I guess." The willowy blond waved a hand as best he could with his arms full and headed out. A small smile curved the springy-haired student's mouth as he turned in the apartment doorway. "...And have fun."

Alfred really must've imagined the innuendo-laced tone, because there was just no way his cousin had insinuated he had been doing something with...

The cogs in the American's brain slowed as bits of visual information pieced themselves together. Tied up. Costumed stranger. Who was flushed and sweating. On his couch.

"N-not a chance in HELL!" Alfred, and surprisingly Britannia Angel as well, yelled.

The door swung shut and the two stared at each other indignantly.

"What gives." Alfred gave the angel a deadpan look. "Why aren't you invisible?"

"Of course I'm not _invisible_." The Brit scoffed plainly. "I'm not a ruddy ghost, you know."

At the mention of the word 'ghost' the hair on the back of the American's neck stood on end, and he balked slightly. "Uh, yeah..."

Seeing the broad-shouldered man's unease, the toga-wearing angel twisted about as best he could. "Look, it's high time you untied me, vagabond!" Before Alfred could ask what a vagabond was, the angel continued.

"It's not as if I could sodding go anywhere even if I wanted to." Britannia seemed bitter by that fact. "As soon as my feet touched the earth I became bound here until I _grant_ _a wish_ to the ones who encountered me first – namely you."

A wish?

An honest to goodness wish?

Alfred's eyebrows disappeared up behind his hair. "You're yanking my chain." He laughed curiously but moved closer to undo the knots in the bonds anyway.

"If it's lying you mean, I can assure you that's not quite a part of the job description." Relief and exasperation were apparent in the shorter man's voice.

Britannia Angel sighed in relaxation as he was released, throwing the ropes on the floor. A look of concentration crossed his face and a moment later the star-topped wand Alfred had hidden earlier came floating wobbly through the air into the shorter man's opened hand.

Alfred folded his arms across his chest and watched the angel pat his clothing and hair into some semblance of order.

He stuck a hand out. "Alfred F. Jones."

Britannia Angel stared at him. "Pardon?"

"The name's Alfred." The bespectacled young man repeated, fluidly turning his handshake into a salute. A smile slipped into place, somehow easy with the mysterious stranger blinking back at him.

"So? Don't tell me I'm supposed to call you 'Angel' all day." Alfred joked, grinning now.

The Brit blushed slightly at the teasing, turning his face away. "Well that _is_ my proper title." Britannia said in a chuffed manner, his wings ruffling in response. "...But if you really must, you may call me by a human name."

The angel looked back around and let out a breath, his green gaze meeting Alfred's blue in an unspoken truce.

"It's Arthur." Britannia Angel supplied, his face morphing into a thoughtful arrangement of features. "So then, what do you wish for, Alfred?"

A rush of scores of things Alfred could wish for ran through the young man's mind. He could get anything. Anything at all! His luck was finally catching up. But, he just didn't know, he couldn't decide on just one thing. There had to be a way to stall on choosing...

"...I'm not really the wishing type of guy." Alfred answered, an index finger pointed as if to punctuate his true facts.

"...You aren't."

"Nah, in fact, I probably won't figure out what I want for a while – a _long_ while most likely."

A significant pause weighed heavily in the room.

The impressive collection of expletives that soon followed his revelation made Alfred have to hide a grin. The American couldn't stop the small but enthused smile that tugged the corners of his mouth up, though.

'_Well,_' He thought good-naturedly. '_Some truces last longer than others_.'

* * *

End Part 2

Liked it? Review please!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money from this!

A/N: Gah, I am so sorry for how long it took me to update. I only write when I feel inspired. Thanks for all the nice reviews! Oh and some actual plot appears.

* * *

**Send Me an Angel**

* * *

The bright afternoon sunlight filtered in through the apartment window and Alfred pursed his lips with a frown. He had honestly planned to spend most of the day flying, but those plans had definitely been cut short with his unexpected visitor.

The Britannia Angel – well, Arthur (if that was his real name) – had put on a knowledgeable and theatric display of the complete encyclopedia of English profanities after being denied a wish to grant. The American had only been able to laugh at the quaint British antics which promptly garnered the young man a silent treatment of sorts. Apparently the effects of Britannia's hangover had made a triumphant return, so he was relegated to nursing a glass of water while roosting on one of Alfred's two kitchenette chairs.

That had been an hour or two ago, and it was starting to get uncomfortable in the bat cave (re: student housing). Striding into the angel's point of view, Alfred winningly ignored the stare digging at the back of his head and threw open his refrigerator door. The American figured eating would at least get his mouth out of having to talk with the heavenly being. Unfortunately, all he had in his ice box at the moment was a couple of old frozen pizzas, some condiments, and a few cans of soda.

Shrugging, Alfred reached for a coke. He nearly dropped it though, when all of a sudden a wave of sparkles zipped along the can and, lo-and-behold… the beverage had been transformed into a pepsi.

Alfred stared at the drink with wide eyes and then turned his head to look over his shoulder at Arthur. The toga-wearing man was giving a half-smile, his thick eyebrows lowered as he cupped his aching forehead in his hand. The star-topped wand was lightly being twirled between his fingers.

"Very funny." Alfred grinned fakely and forced his gaze away. He stared down at the can in his hand and saw that the pepsi was now some diet variety of pink-coloured pop.

"…." The blue-eyed student licked his lips in distaste but slammed the drink onto the counter and snatched up a clean glass anyway.

Alfred adjusted his glasses at the bridge of his nose and stared challengingly over at the Britannia angel.

To his satisfaction, Arthur gave him a frown and looked off with a dour expression.

"Heh, so you're good at changing the colour of things," Alfred quipped as he cracked the tab on the can open and tipped the drink to pour it out. "You know, that _really_ doesn't help me figure out a wish."

It was a sore point, and immediately Britannia's shoulders hunched, feathers sticking out in annoyed angles. "You grand tosser..." The angel muttered, flushing angrily.

"It'd _also_ help if you spoke American." Alfred squinted his eyes and proudly lifted his glass to his lips.

The Britannia angel jerked his wand at the human quickly in a motion that looked rather a lot like giving somebody the finger, and the glass in Alfred's hand vanished into thin air.

Pink soda went cascading down the front of Alfred's jeans.

"Hurk-!" The American let out a startled sound and his eyes went wide behind his glasses as he looked down at himself.

A pleased little smile curved Britannia Angel's mouth. "Bugger that. Here's an idea – How about you _wish_ for a new pair of trousers, instead?" Green eyes looked down amusedly at wet, clinging clothes. "Smashing idea, isn't it?"

Alfred shifted around and tried (and failed) to nonchalantly grab a new soda.

Oh this guy was good.

Scratch that.

This guy was evil.

* * *

One change of jeans later, things developed into a mutual existence of tolerating the other. Alfred plunked himself down in front of his video game console, taking out virtual alien invaders.

Britannia Angel skulked around the apartment, but it soon became clear splendid isolation was impossible to achieve in the small living space, especially with the video game sounds exploding throughout everywhere. Eventually the Brit took a tentative seat down as far away from Alfred as he could be while still being seated on the same couch.

Alfred gave a quick look askance and they both tensed when their eyes met. The student swiftly fixed his gaze back on the television screen and Britannia Angel looked away slowly, still mindful of his recovering hangover.

A beat passed and Britannia Angel huffed out a strategic breath, seemingly steeling himself for something unpleasant. "Right." The angel cleared his throat. "Look, this mess just feels like a bad dream…" He trailed off with a mildly regretful tone as if he had done the whole binge drinking and morning after thing before. "I'm going to be the bigger man here and admit that perhaps we got off onto the wrong foot-"

"Says the one who got my pants all sticky." Alfred injected with a snort and a hard jab at his controller's joystick.

Britannia didn't answer right away and Alfred paused for a moment before quickly and awkwardly adding, "With soda."

"…Well," Britannia said with a tangibly thin patience, "Like it or not – and I definitely do _not_ – I'll be staying here until you make up your mind."

The matter-of-fact words filtered through, and Alfred paused for real this time, hitting the button on his game and turning to look squarely at the large-eyebrowed man. "So you have to stay here?" Truthfully, the American hadn't thought that far ahead when he'd first towed the angel home with him.

Britannia shot him a superior look over crossed arms. He tapped his fingers against his bare bicep (admittedly not so much toned as it was wiry) a few times before sitting up straight. "Yes, quite. Now that that's settled…Where do you have your guests sleep?"

"…." Alfred blinked and puffed out his cheeks in displeasure at the onslaught of new developments. He blew out the breath noisily and gestured to the couch Britannia was by now well acquainted with. "Guests sleep on the couch."

"_Wonderful_."

The video game was clicked on again and Alfred tried to kill more enemies to drown out the sound of his guest beating a chair pillow into a less lumpy shape.

At some point, hunger won out to the awkward silence again, and the remaining stash of frozen pizzas were pulled out of the microwave and plopped down on the coffee table.

"Want any?" Alfred felt the need to ask, before he consumed all of it.

The Britannia Angel just threw himself onto his side of the couch and offered a few muttered recollections about having stuffed himself with hotdogs in an eating contest sometime the night before.

Alfred mouthed an incredulous 'OK…' to himself, shrugged, and chewed through the slices with gusto.

* * *

It was starting to get dark when Alfred finally set aside his game controller and blinked his eyes a few times, rubbing at them and stretching until his joints popped audibly.

The American looked to his side and stared at the Angel who slept more like the dead than anything else. His mouth was wide open with a bit of drool down his chin and – was that light snoring?

Alfred scratched the back of his head and checked the time – 9pm, the night was still young! The student grinned and went over to his closet to put on some sneakers, only to straighten from his task and see Britannia Angel up and about; disentangling his toga and adjusting his sandals as he came over to the door in front of Alfred, as if he meant to come along.

Alfred managed to hold back a laugh, just in case he was wrong. "Uh, where do you think you're going?"

Britannia Angel arched one prominent eyebrow at him. "I'm coming along, of course."

"…" Immediately Alfred's eyes shot down the Brit's frame. The guy was walking around in practically a sheet. Not a very long one either.

"I _did_ say I'm unable to leave."

Alfred, with a conscious effort, made his gaze stray away from the bare legs up to the comfortable vicinity of Britannia Angel's face. Maybe there really was something up above, because the American was saved affliction from the proverbial foot-in-mouth disease he was prone to when Britannia Angel tapped himself on the head with his wand and was instantly spelled into some normal looking clothes – wings magically hidden from view.

* * *

Alfred walked along the sidewalk and passed by shops and small restaurants. He was on his way to the local sports bar that his classmates frequently – or in the case of Gilbert (an East German, self-proclaimed Prussian) maybe TOO frequently – hung out at.

Britannia Angel was incognito beside him, looking bored and inconvenienced.

"You know, nobody wears that stuff anymore." Alfred poked fun at the plain sweater, shirt and slacks, his companion had chosen to magic up. "When did you die, the 30s?" Alfred snickered to himself.

"Who taught you anything?" Britannia rolled his eyes and prodded the bespectacled teen in the side of his head with his wand. "People die and become _souls, _not angels. I told you, I've got more status than mere people."

"Hey!" Alfred scrubbed at the spot and sparkles came off on his hand. "You're actually carrying that glimmery thing around? I don't know about you, but down here on Earth we don't call that _looking normal_."

Britannia Angel blushed slightly, but gripped his wand possessively. "…Where are we headed to, exactly?"

The student stuck out his tongue and adjusted his glasses. "A party."

"Oh gods, no."

"At Papa Rome's campus eatery."

"…"

"Don't look at _me_ that way. You're the one who got wild last night and now we're stuck going to parties together. Don't give me any details on that either, by the way, I don't want to know."

"As if you would be privy to that highly classified information." Britannia retorted, though a few embarrassed sweat beads dotted his forehead. "And I'm certain it was by far a vast improvement on whatever 'Papa Rome's' has going for it, in any case."

"We're still going, though." Alfred declared, and then stopped short, letting out a groan. "Don't even _ask_ me how I'm going to explain you to everyone."

"I'm sure you can think of something. But," The British man smiled slowly, and Alfred felt his eyebrows turn upwards in wonder. "…You could always just explain this."

It turned out that spot had been the completely wrong spot to stop at, because the next thing Alfred F. Jones knew, the same wand he had made fun of was zapping stars at the window display of the interesting leather bondage store he had never had the pleasure of going into before.

The American was now nicely clad in tight, black leather, with the mannequin in the store wearing a hoodie and jeans instead.

"What the hell is this!" Alfred howled. "Change them back!"

"Ah ah." Britannia Angel was very nearly crowing. "What's that? You _wish_ for your clothing to be transformed back?"

Oh.

So that was his game.

Arthur looked hopeful and smug. It suddenly dawned on Alfred that he could have easily – with just the slip of a tongue – wasted his wish on something as trivial as comfortable clothing (made in China).

"…Actually." Alfred strained out, his teeth set into a smile. "On second thought, these clothes look awesome."

Britannia Angel's smirk faltered.

"Yeah! In fact, I think I'll wear them all night!" There was something to be said about the American value of not-giving-in, because Alfred gave a thumbs up, turned right around and kept on walking, leather pants creaking pleasantly as he got a head start on the foiled Britannia Angel.

Green eyes guiltily glanced down below the beltline, before darting up and hooding indignantly when Alfred laughed something about him either catching up or being the backup.

Unnoticed, a few magically hidden feathers fell free of white, pure wings, and floated to the ground.

Britannia Angel huffed and quickly followed. "You wish!"

* * *

End Part 3

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